


Pull the trigger back, back

by Thunderfire69



Series: Billy/Freddie stuff [3]
Category: School of Rock - Lloyd Webber/Slater/Fellowes
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, Gunshot Wounds, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Possible Character Death, bullet wounds, temporary memory loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 05:36:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20077021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thunderfire69/pseuds/Thunderfire69
Summary: Three shots fired in rapid succession, directly at the stage. Most of the kids had dropped to the floor instantly, and Billy could only stay where he stood, frozen. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see security rushing in to disarm the man, dragging him away.His eyes stayed fixed on the stage. After a few long, agonising moments, his classmates began to move, getting to their feet. For a moment, it seemed that they’ll all escaped injury.Then Billy’s eyes settled on Freddie. Freddie, who was still sitting behind the drums. Freddie, who couldn’t have ducked if he’d tried. Freddie, who was clutching at his gut, eyes wide.-OR-Some dickhead shoots at the School Of Rock during the Battle Of The Bands comp





	Pull the trigger back, back

**Author's Note:**

> Me @ my s/o as I was writing this: Sorry not sorry bout what I said, I’m just trying to have some fun, don’t worry don’t worry don’t lose ur head, I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, l-o-l, say oh well or go to hell, sorry not sorry bout what I said, don’t lose ur head
> 
> Title is lyrics from Bullet In A Gun by Imagine Dragons

“Look, I’ve gotta get out there… but dinner? Later?”

“Are you asking me on a date?” Billy almost could have smacked himself for voicing that out loud, but Freddie just smiled at him.

“Maybe I am.”

Billy smiled back at Freddie. “Later, then.”

Freddie’s grin widened, and with a wink at Billy that made his heart positively  _ leap  _ out of chest, the drummer turned and headed onstage. Billy watched him go, the ghost of a smile still playing across his lips.

He wasn’t sad that he didn’t get to go onstage with them; half of the class had behind the scenes jobs to do, like tech and lighting and security. What he  _ was  _ sad about was that none of his designs had been used… though he  _ did  _ make the outfit Mr Sch- _ Finn _ wore.

The competition was going fine, at first. The crowd was into it, everybody cheering for his classmates as they sung and played. Billy’s eyes seemed to drift to Freddie every few seconds, just to be greeted with the sight of the drummer having the time of his life. It was going well, really well.

Until it wasn’t.

_ Bang. _

_ BANG. _

_ BANG! _

Three shots fired in rapid succession, directly at the stage. Most of the kids had dropped to the floor instantly, and Billy could only stay where he stood, frozen. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see security rushing in to disarm the man, dragging him away.

His eyes stayed fixed on the stage. After a few long, agonising moments, his classmates began to move, getting to their feet. For a moment, it seemed that they’ll all escaped injury.

Then Billy’s eyes settled on Freddie. Freddie, who was still sitting behind the drums. Freddie, who couldn’t have ducked if he’d tried. Freddie, who was clutching at his gut, eyes wide.

In that moment, Billy unfroze. He sprinted to Freddie’s side; as he drew closer, he spotted the blood dripping down Freddie’s face from where a bullet had obviously grazed his temple. Freddie’s hands were pressed desperately to his gut, where blood bloomed through his clothing and oh god there was so much  _ blood. _

Frantically Billy pressed his own hands over Freddie’s. “You promised me a date later, remember?”

Freddie’s tired, pain filled gaze met Billy’s own. “Yeah… yeah… I… I did…”

Billy grew more frantic as Freddie’s eyes began to close. “No, no, you gotta stay with me. You promised, Freddie! You promised!”

Freddie only offered him a brief, apologetic smile before his eyes slipped closed. Billy shook him with one hand, blood trickling between his fingers on the hand he kept pressed to Freddie’s gut.

There was just so much  _ blood _ . It coated the hand Billy was using to try and wake Freddie back up, and it saturated Freddie’s white shirt, turning it a dark red. So much blood, like a crimson tide, trying to force its way past Billy’s fingers and out into the world.

“No, no, no,” Billy muttered frantically, more to himself than to anyone else. “Wake up, Freddie. Please. Please wake up!”

Freddie didn’t move. As far as Billy could tell, he wasn’t even breathing. Billy’s vision began to blur as tears welled up in his eyes; he wasn’t one to cry easily, and he hated that he was about to cry right now.

He could hear sirens in the distance as he desperately tried to shake Freddie awake. All he seemed to be able to take in was the blood, all the blood, some of it now staining the drumkit and making droplets on the floor, and the drip, drip, drip of the blood that made its way past Billy’s fingers.

And then he was being pulled away by strong arms, and he was struggling, trying to get back to Freddie. He was sure he was screaming, but he couldn’t hear himself. Paramedics were checking Freddie over, carefully lifting him away from the drumkit, and away from Billy.

Then Billy’s dad was in front of him, blocking his view of Freddie and reaching for his son. He was saying something, probably trying to calm Billy down, but Billy couldn’t hear him. The world seemed to slowly come back into focus, and after a moment Billy could finally hear his dad; faintly, but it was there.

“Billy, Billy, you need to calm down,” his dad was saying, his hand settling on his son’s shoulder. “They’re taking him to the hospital. They’ll take care of him there.”

Billy slumped, then, going slack in the hands of the people holding him back. They let him go, and Billy’s dad half-caught him as he fell forwards a little.

“You promised, Freddie,” Billy murmured to himself, barely audible. “You  _ promised _ .”

——————————**——————————

A week passed with no updates on Freddie’s condition. Only his family was allowed to go visit him, and Billy spent that week worrying, worrying, and worrying some more. All he seemed to be able to think about was the worst-case outcome; that Freddie was dead, dead,  _ dead _ .

And then it was a new week. And Freddie was walking into the classroom along with the rest of Billy’s classmates. And he was  _ alive. _

There were stitches on his temple, where the wound had been. Billy suspected he probably had stitching and a bandage where the bullet had hit him in the gut, too, but it probably looked a lot messier than his temple did.

It was Freddie, for sure, but there was something…  _ off.  _ And by off, Billy didn’t mean the slight limp in his step or the way he winced with each movement. No, Billy meant the way Freddie’s eyes flitted around the room, the way his brow creased in visible confusion.

He looked as if he’d just been deposited into some alien landscape, as if he’d never set foot in this classroom ever before. Freddie looked kind of scared, glancing around as if he were searching for someone,  _ anyone  _ he knew.

Billy wanted to get up and ask him if he was okay, but he didn’t. He stayed in his seat, avoided eye-contact with Freddie and waited for the lesson to start.

  
  


——————————**——————————

Billy avoided Freddie for the day until lunchtime. It wasn’t that he wanted to avoid Freddie, mind you; he just didn’t dare confront him, not when Freddie kept looking around the school like a frightened animal. 

But at lunchtime, Freddie made his way over to Billy, and reached out to grab onto his arm, gripping onto it like a lifeline. Billy turned to face him, and was met by a wide-eyed, frightened boy; he looked so fearful that it was almost animalistic, like a wild rabbit cornered with no escape.

“Billy,” Freddie said, quietly, but there was something  _ off  _ about the way he said Billy’s name. “What’s going on? Where’s Mr Schneebly? What about the Battle Of The Bands?”

Billy felt his heart sink with every word Freddie said. “Freddie…”

Freddie just looked more frightened by Billy’s tone of voice, more bewildered and scared. “Please, Billy. What’s happening?”

Billy pried Freddie’s hands off his arm and stepped back, shaking his head slightly. “I… You… you don’t remember?”

Freddie took a half step back, eyes flicking around the schoolyard, looking more distrustful with every second. “Remember what?”

At that, Billy felt like his entire world had flipped. Freddie didn’t remember; he didn’t remember the promise he’d made before going onstage, or what had actually happened at the Battle Of The Bands. He still thought Mr Schneebly was their teacher- he still believed Mr Finn  _ was _ Mr Schneebly!

Billy stared at Freddie for a moment, then turned and began to sprint across the schoolyard. As he ran, he blinked back the tears that started to form in his eyes, and didn’t dare look back at Freddie.

——————————**——————————

Back in class after lunch, Billy had begun avoiding Freddie again. He didn’t make eye contact, in fact he barely even looked up from his desk. That is, until the door was kicked in.

What were the chances of  _ two  _ crazed gunmen attacking his class within a week of each other? Apparently pretty high as the insane individual that stumbled into the classroom drew a gun and aimed it.

Right. At. Billy.

“No one move!” The man shouted, threatening, insane gaze sweeping across the classroom. Their teacher looked absolutely horrified, like she might faint on the spot. His classmates just seemed to freeze.

Billy’s heart thumped in his chest. From where he sat, he was staring directly into the barrel of the gun. If the man pulled the trigger, the bullet would go straight into Billy’s brain. He wouldn’t be like Freddie, who survived with little more than memory loss; Billy would be  _ dead _ .

He trembled, and averted his gaze from the gunman. Doing this caused him to meet Freddie’s gaze; he almost looked back at the gun before he realised it. Freddie looked  _ himself  _ again.

Not like some frightened animal, not like he was missing any part of his memory;  _ himself. _ Under different circumstances, Billy would have been relieved. Instead, he wished Freddie  _ hadn’t  _ remembered.

If Freddie hadn’t remembered, he wouldn’t have to sit here and watch. Billy knew he was going to get shot, knew that no one would be able to stop the gunman before he pulled the trigger. Then a voice filled the air, crackly, like it came from a phone.

_ “Hello? 911 how can we help?” _

The gunman’s eyes flicked to the teacher, to the phone she held in her hand. Then he smiled, an awful, horrible smile, lips curling back to display ugly, rotten teeth.

“That was a mistake,” he said, then turned his gaze back to Billy and pulled the trigger.

Time seemed to slow as the bullet flew towards him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blur of burgundy, the same colour as their school vests. Then Freddie slammed into Billy, knocking him out of the bullet’s path.

The two crashed to the ground, and loud, quick footfalls told Billy that the gunman had decided he was going to run now, before the police could arrive. Billy didn’t focus on that, though; he focused on Freddie, who had fallen atop him and was incredibly, scarily limp.

“Freddie? Please, no…” Billy  _ couldn’t  _ lose him, not when he’d just gotten Freddie back. For a few, horrible moments, Freddie didn’t move.

Then he stirred, seeming groggy, and winced as he moved his right leg. He blinked a couple of times, then his eyes fell on Billy, who he was still half-crushing with his own body weight and he blinked apologetically.

“Oh! Sorry!” Freddie awkwardly rolled off him, wincing as his right leg hit one of the nearby desks. Billy got a glimpse of a nasty graze, probably from the bullet, on Freddie’s calf.

Billy carefully sat up, finding that other than a few forming bruises, he was unharmed. He then got to his feet, and helped Freddie to stand; the other boy hissed as he put weight on his injured leg, but otherwise seemed to be unharmed.

Billy couldn’t stop himself, then; he threw his arms around Freddie and pulled him close, pressing his forehead against Freddie’s shoulder. He felt Freddie’s arms come up around his back, steadying himself before tightening around him.

After a moment, Billy drew back and Freddie smiled at him, the same smile Billy had fallen in love with so long ago.

“So, how about we organise that date?”

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I’m not sorry
> 
> Also the original title for this, the title I used for the doc, is “Panic! At The Rock Competition”


End file.
